Page 102 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘Quite good that you found yourself a governess, finally.’
He nodded. ‘She is wonderful with the children. A revelation after those who were not able to draw them out.’
‘You must be pleased.’
‘I am,’ he said.
They adjourned to the parlour and talked about London gossip, even though West didn’t care. They couldn’t speak only of business or Grace would be upset.
He checked the time and stood. ‘It will be the hour that we have our time in the garden.’
‘Your time in the garden?’
He nodded. ‘I spend a couple of hours outside with the children every day. That is... Miss Smith’s doing.’
It was a struggle not to call her Mary.
‘Well,’ said Luke, ‘we ought to join you. I’ve not spent time in the garden at Attingham since I was a boy. And we did have great adventures.’
‘We certainly did.’
When they went out to the sprawling lawn, the children were already racing around, five of them, and everyone screeching.
Mary was standing there holding Lachlan, looking out at the scene.
She was not required to care for him any more. They had a wet nurse. Though he was near six months old, and was beginning to eat more food.
And Mary had taken on the care of him when he did not need to eat with ease.
It no longer seemed to hurt her. It seemed to be healing her.
In that moment, she looked down at the pudgy boy, her red hair blowing in the breeze, her green eyes bright in the beautiful sun.
And he did not think he had ever seen a more beautiful sight than this woman’s love for a child she had not given birth to.
It made him feel fierce and protective of them both. For the child was not of his blood either. And it was beginning to feel... It was beginning to feel as if he could be. As if he were just one of the children. The same as the others.
It was a strange thought, transformative. His father could never have felt that, even for his own children.
Perhaps that meant something. Perhaps.
‘Father,’ Elizabeth yelled, bending down and picking up a fierce-looking wooden sword. ‘You should be a pirate.’
‘Excuse me,’ he said to his brother. ‘I’ve piracy to attend to.’
He broke away from his brother and his sister-in-law, and picked up his own sword, running after his daughter, who shrieked in delight.
And in that moment he could not recall having ever been happier.
Not even as a boy.
Not even then.
Suddenly, he was set upon by his son and his nephews, who took him out right at the knees and rolled him across the grass.
His brother laughed. The sort of laugh he had not heard from him since they were children.
And when they adjourned for dinner the only thing that dampened his happiness was that Mary could not join them.
